


Reprise of a Soul

by tokiidokii



Category: Classicaloid (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, chopin and liszt are platonic life partners, takes place about after episode 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokiidokii/pseuds/tokiidokii
Summary: Chopin has never been a fan of the residents of Otowakan save for his best friend, Liszt. He would prefer that they stay far away from him...that is, until Chopin falls very ill. Each chapter will focus on a different member of the household caring for him, and along the way, Chopin questions life, family, and what it means to be a Classicaloid.





	1. Kanae

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This may seem a little like my fic from before, but I plan on getting a lot more in depth with the story as it goes on. Your favorite resident of Otowakan will be sure to appear at some point and have their own role. Please stay tuned!

Chopin shifted uncomfortably under the covers, searching for a way to alleviate the pressure building in his stomach. Something had felt off since early evening, but the general obnoxious atmosphere of the Otowakan made it hard to discern. Chopin had some terrible roommates: between Kanae's nagging and bitching, Schubert's inability to act on his own, Beethoven's unrelenting thirst for dangerous experiments, and Mozart's loud voice, dealing with them all made his anxiety go through the roof. However, it was growing apparent these symptoms were more than just psychosomatic response.

He groaned and considered his options. Throwing up in his room was less than ideal due to a lack of anything to puke in. He needed to go to the bathroom...then, he needed to find Liszt. He clicked open his phone, squinting at the light. It was well past 3 a.m. now. Chopin wished he could text her, have her bring in a trash can and cuddle together until he felt better, but she always made sure to turn her phone off at night. Something about interrupting her beauty sleep. Thankfully, she never minded when it was him.

With another uneasy flip of his stomach, Chopin accepted his fate of vomiting in the near future and rose to his feet. His legs shook as he took a couple of steps. Did he feel this weak when he laid down? The dark hallway was predictably empty as he shuffled down the hall, drawing his posture further in from a sudden cold chill. He regretted leaving the comfort of his futon, especially now that standing upright made his head spin. He managed to turn the corner in the hallway when his knees trembled, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He had just enough time to register he was about to fall before crashing to the ground in the dark, the loud sound echoing through the quiet house. Chopin winced, not only did that hurt, but it certainly alerted the horde to his presence. He rolled over onto all fours, and nausea settled heavily in his gut.

Predictably, the door next to his room creaked open. A pause, and then-

"Chopin! Are you okay?" Beethoven called, voice stern but otherwise unreadable.

_Go away go away go away go away..._ it repeated in his head like a mantra, he felt so vulnerable sitting like this in the hallway. Bile rose up in the back of his throat and cut off his ability to speak. Beethoven approached him just in time for Chopin to start retching, and he wanted to curl up and die. _Don't look at me._

"That's alright. You'll feel better once it's out." Beethoven suddenly said, placing a hand on his thin shoulder. Chopin flinched, but he had no other choice than to let it stay. 

It took longer than it should have, his body rejecting everything it could, made worse by the fact he had an audience. An audience that was touching him, rubbing his back, without his consent. His mind screamed at him to flee. Chopin stood up as soon as he finished heaving, but stumbled, and Beethoven forced him back into a sitting position. 

"Stay here. I'll go get Kanae." Chopin heard Beethoven say. 

_No no no._ He was not in the mood at all to get yelled at by the landlady for making a huge mess, not right now. But Beethoven was already gone. Chopin whimpered and pulled his legs up to his chest, then buried his face in his knees. The hallway was so cold...where was Liszt? Chopin never even raised his head at the sound of approaching footsteps; he accepted his fate and wanted the yelling to be over with soon so that he could get to Liszt. _Please._

"Cho-chan-san?" He flinched again at the name, refusing to look at her. Kanae's voice sounded heavy with sleep. "Couldn't make it, huh?" 

"Mm..." It came out like a half whine more than a real answer. Her hand suddenly found his forehead, scooting underneath the unruly bangs, and tension snapped up his spine. The only thing preventing him from trying to escape again was the pleasant feeling of cool fingers against his hot skin.

"No wonder, poor guy is burning up." She sighed, but it wasn't an angry one. "Beethes, I need you to grab the mop bucket and fill it up. It should be in the hall closet downstairs. Can you do that?"

"I'll get it right away!" He said a little too loudly.

Chopin heard more footsteps as he refused to emerge from his hiding spot to face the humiliating situation at hand, as well as the dread that he awaited from Kanae’s anger. Speaking of, the landlady was back only a moment later and patted his arm gently. Chopin tightened his grip on his legs. 

"Cho-chan-san, will you let me see your face?" She asked, the question tinged with worry.

At first, when he tried to talk, all that came out was a soft croak. He hesitantly pulled his head out from his knees, raising his eyes just enough to peek out from under his thick bangs. Kanae looked tired, short hair messy from sleep, but the usual expression on her face when there was a mess to clean was missing.

"Aren't you...m-mad at me?"

"Mad at you...for being sick? Of course not! It's not like you did it on purpose...though I wouldn't put it past some of the others." Chopin laughed a little at that. Kanae smiled and held up a washcloth. "Here."

Now more at ease, Chopin allowed her to touch his forehead. The cloth was cold and damp, and it felt heavenly against his too-hot skin as she patted his forehead and the corners of his mouth. Being babied by Kanae embarrassed him, but the need to feel comforted at the moment outweighed his pride. His eyelids fluttered shut. Exhaustion settled in his bones, worn out by the stressful ordeal...

_CRASH._ Whatever it was, the sudden noise tore him from his reprieve. There was that pissed off expression on her face, and Chopin tore himself away from her and covered his head with his hands on instinct.

"I HAVE FOUND THE BUCKET!"

"Uuuurgh...people are trying to sleep in this house, you know!" 

She must have stalked off again, because Chopin found himself very alone in an instant. This was torture, being forced to sit next to the shameful mess he made on the floor, the other members of the house gawking at him. He hated taking the center of attention, let alone for something so embarrassing. Left by himself with only his thoughts, Chopin's mind wandered to his days at the agency; being ordered around and made to perform in front of large audiences...so anxious he could hardly keep anything down some days, but nobody would listen to his pleas. Of course, he never told Liszt, she seemed to enjoy herself on stage and telling her would only serve to worry her further and-

"It sure is noisy!" A new voice from down the stairs instantly made Chopin nauseous again. 

"Motes, we don't need your help." Kanae said. She must have found the bucket.

"Help with what?" His voice sounded much closer now. "Ooh, Chopin, did you puke? Haha, gross!" _So forward._ His face burned.

"I'm not afraid to hit you with this." Kanae huffed. The mop hit the floor with a gentle splat. She was coming to his defense..."Cho-chan-san, do you want to go back to your room? Beethes can take you there."

Finally, an escape. His head shot up, a bad idea that caused the room to spin. Despite his worsening nausea, he forced himself to speak.

"To L-Liszt...take me...please..." His arms trembled as he helplessly held them out. 

"Liszt's room? Alright. Come here." Beethoven pulled him up onto his feet and looped one of his arms around the back of his neck. His legs shook so badly he could hardly walk, so he clung to the other for dear life. A far cry from his usual behavior, but he would do anything if it meant getting out of this miserable hallway. Beethoven must have noticed this, muttering a little, "You _are_ really sick..."

"Ooh, what can I do to help?" Mozart asked. Chopin tried to send him a death glare, but it was probably lost underneath his bangs because the man only stood there, smiling like an idiot. Mozart’s typical thick braid was down, revealing long, obnoxious pink hair that made the man even more obnoxious to look at.

"You can be quiet for the next couple of days while Cho-chan-san recovers. Can you do that?" Kanae responded, slightly exasperated as she mopped up the vomit.

"Ooh, uhm...okay!" Chopin wondered what he expected her to tell him.

Chopin gradually lost focus on the conversation once Beethoven started moving, attention solely on putting one weary foot in front of the other. Liszt lived farther down the hall, leaving her out of range from all of the commotion and from Chopin. Unfortunate for him, but the thought of finally seeing her drove off some of the churning in his belly. It still felt like an eternity before they arrived, Beethoven opening the door with a soft click. Before he could do anything else, Chopin stumbled in, narrowly catching himself on the side of the bed where she slept.

"Liszt...L-Liszt, wake u-up...." He shook her shoulder harder than necessary.

"Mmm....?" Liszt stirred from her sleep and rolled over to face him. Pulling the sleeping mask from her eyes, she squinted in the dark. "Cho-chan? Did you have another nightmare?"

"I-I don't feel so good...got sick in the hallway...let me stay with you...?"

"Ooh, my poor darling, of course." She pulled back the covers, her brows furrowed by concern. Understandable, since Chopin rarely asked for her affection this directly. "Come here." 

Liszt leaned forward and grabbed Chopin underneath his arms, lifting his thin frame onto the bed with ease. He let out a long, shuddering sigh as he curled up in a tight ball and allowed Liszt to tuck him in. Safety. A door shut somewhere far off, and at last the night ended, far away from everyone else in the mansion. At least they weren't too unbearable, and Kanae never yelled at him once. 

As he came closer and closer to succumbing to sleep, something nagged at him in the back of his mind. _So tired...a memory...?_ But as Liszt cuddled him closer and ran her fingers through his hair, it vanished. Oh well. He cared far more about getting rest.


	2. Schubert

Due to the location of the living room, Schubert only heard the news of Chopin's illness hours later upon waking up. Namely, he heard it through Beethoven-senpai, who announced a new project to him once he came down the stairs. Senpai threw his hands in the air in a mighty gesture, stating it was of the utmost importance. And - the best part - he needed Schubert's help! He loyally followed after Beethoven and found himself in the kitchen once more.

"Ah, more gyoza, Beethoven-senpai?" He struggled to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Not today! We don't have a lot of time, so we must get started right away. Go find me all of the noodles you can!"

"Yes! O-Of course!" Schubert scurried off, opening all the cabinets in sight and digging through them.

Someone cleared their throat. Schubert raised his head and saw Kanae standing there, dressed up in her uniform with school bag in hand. Once she made her presence known, she walked over to Beethoven-senpai with her head held high. It frustrated him a little that she would interrupt senpai when he was busy with a task he deemed so important, but Schubert refrained from speaking. No one dared argue with Kanae.

"Beethes, I'm about to go to school. In a few hours, could you-"

"No can do, young lady! I will be very busy today," Beethoven replied. 

She sighed and turned away. Way to go, senpai! Only someone as strong willed as him could turn down a request from the landlady. Schubert's triumph was short lived as Kanae made eye contact with him next. He blinked, frozen, then tried to hide his head in a cabinet. 

"Schuu-san...." She said flatly.

"Y-yes?" He hesitated before removing his head from the cabinet.

"I'm about to go to school. You know that Cho-chan-san is sick, right? Liszt told me he had a pretty rough night and only fell deep asleep not too long ago. Since she was up all night taking care of him, she's going to go back to bed soon. Could you check on him in a couple of hours? Keep him hydrated, give him a fresh towel, that sort of thing."

"Well..." Senpai comes first, but...

"Please? I'm not asking for my sake, you know." She looked at the wall with a small, smug smile. "But if you can't, I guess I could always ask Mozart to-"

"I'll do it!"

\--------

Schubert helped senpai for the next couple of hours, keeping his eyes on the clock for when he needed to excuse himself. He never gave much thought to Chopin - the quietest member of the household for sure, the two only started to interact during the Jolly incident. From what he knew, Chopin seemed nice enough. More bearable than a certain someone, anyways. Perhaps they could even be friends, if Schubert managed to break through the other's wall of anxiety and loneliness.

"Ah, senpai...the time has come for me to check on Chopin. If you'll excuse me..."

"Of course. Do what you need to do."

Schubert grabbed the supplies Kanae told him to bring and headed down the hall. He reminded himself not to go to the room next to senpai's; Chopin had stayed the night in Liszt's room. He contemplated knocking, but he realized the pair were most likely still asleep. With a deep breath, he cracked the door open with a soft creak. 

The curtains were drawn, and it was dark. Schubert nearly missed the sleeping body of Liszt, sprawled out on a futon on the floor. How kind of her to give the bed to Chopin! Schubert took a large step over the woman resting on the floor and approached the bed. He barely made out the fiery hair peeking out from underneath the comforter, blankets pulled as high up as possible in an effort to trap all the heat possible. With a finger and thumb, Schubert pulled back the covers to reveal the sleeping man underneath.

 _He's so pale._ Chopin's face almost matched the color of the white pillow underneath his head; his small and fragile frame curled up in the fetal position...completely unmoving...not making a sound...Schubert's hair stood on end and he felt his lungs constrict, fear rushing through him as a singular thought came to him: _Oh my God, he's dead!_

Schubert pulled at his hair with gloved hands, heart thudding loud enough to hear the pulses directly in his ears. His legs shook as panic gripped his body, unsure what to do. He tried to keep his breathing even and quiet as to not wake Liszt up to find her friend dead by the hands of Schubert, and a quiet whine left his mouth at the thought. _She's going to blame me, she's going to be so upset and then blame me and everyone will blame-_

A moan from the figure below him cut through his panicked state, Schubert's eyes wide with relief as he peered down at Chopin, the subtle rise of his chest a great comfort that quashed his remaining terror. He chided himself, chuckling in embarrassment at his own actions. _Of course_ Chopin was alive. He merely caught a stomach flu, not the black plague. Inhaling a deep breath, Schubert composed himself and began the task at hand, only to be interrupted by a louder moan and a harsh quake from Chopin as he suddenly awoke. Schubert met his gold eyes, bloodshot and glassy rimmed with dark bags, but riddled with a very clear sense of fear. Part of Chopin was there, somewhere, but hidden underneath a heavy layer of sickness.

"Ch-Chopin?" He asked, leveling his voice to sound calmer than he was to not scare the sick man despite his desire to leave the room and this entire awkward situation. However, he had a duty to his landlady, as well to his friend Chopin, that he needed to upheld.

Chopin trembled, recoiling into the bed and away from Schubert. "N-no...." He pleaded, throat raw and hoarse from heaving all night, tears welling in his eyes and fingers digging tight into the bed sheets. "No, no, no...."

Schubert swallowed thickly and darted his eyes down to Liszt for rescue, but alas, she remained peacefully asleep. "Chopin?" Did he suffer from a nightmare? Or perhaps...a memory?

"Pl-please...." Chopin begged, his eyes unfocused and staring at the wall ahead of them. Whatever he saw had shaken him terribly. "I-if I die, cut me open...make sure I'm dead, so I won't be buried alive."

Schubert's hair stood on end once again, color draining from his face from panic at the thought of Chopin's death. "Th-that won't be necessary! Y-you're a little delirious right now. Please, drink some water, it'll help." Allowing Chopin to dehydrate would only worsen his condition.

Chopin watched him with a cautious expression, like a wounded animal being offered some food as Schubert held out the bottle. He clearly understood though, hands quivering as he grasped for the water. As he began to drink it, a little ran down the corner of his chapped lips, body weak, desperate, and unsteady. He drained about a third of the bottle before he pushed it back on the nightstand and barely missed knocking off a heart-shaped picture frame containing a photo of him and Liszt. Chopin probably should have sipped it, but Schubert took his appetite for water as a positive sign.

"Good, good. Don't you feel better?" Schubert asked, anxious for whatever incoherent answer he'd receive from the delirious man as he reached forward with a cool cloth to wipe the perspiration off of Chopin's forehead 

Chopin flinched violently and retreated farther back into the covers. "Don't touch me..." He begged, voice less rough but nonetheless still filled with fear. He wheezed in and out, unable to relax and breathe at a normal rate. 

Schubert folded his arms, patient but unsure how to proceed in this situation. His best (or at least easiest) solution was to wake Liszt and have her take Schubert's responsibility; it was an ideal solution as he could leave and stay with senpai. However, Liszt needed to rest, and he certainly couldn't leave Chopin alone in such a fragile state of mind.

"Chopin...? Is there anything you need?" Schubert grabbed a hold of the blankets, grip gentle, but only received a sudden jerk and a whimper from underneath.

"Sleep...b-but...I'm scared..." The lump under the covers curled up even tighter into a frightened, spring loaded ball. Schubert recalled the dark circles framing his eyes; no doubt the illness left him exhausted. Now that his mind was awake with delirious thoughts, but his body needing rest, there was an internal war. With Chopin’s current state of mind, he would never recover. Schubert needed to find a way to relax Chopin and get him to sleep without touching him. The clearer goal put his mind at ease, and Schubert tapped his chin thoughtfully. Now, how to do that...? 

_Ah...!_ Memories of another life flashed through his mind. Of course! How silly of him, the answer was simple.

"I'm going to sit down here, Chopin. Don't mind me." Schubert tucked his coat tails underneath him and took a seat on Chopin's bedside. The sick man gave no response, probably the best Schubert could hope for at the moment. With another glance towards the bundled lump, Schubert cleared his throat, inhaled, and started to sing.

He sang slow, deliberate notes, a gentle lullaby to hopefully lull Chopin to sleep. It worked when Schubert was a child, so perhaps it would work in Chopin's own vulnerable state. He shifted in the bed, and Schubert caught a glimpse of a wide, golden eye peeking out from beneath the blankets. The expression was hard to read, shocked and perhaps a bit confused. Schubert struggled to decipher whether Chopin liked it or not. _Well, he hasn't run me out yet._ Undeterred, Schubert continued on.

Chopin blinked. Then again, but his eyes opened at a slower pace. The wrinkles in the sheets lessened as he released his death grip on the mattress, and the time between each blink grew farther and farther apart as he listened to Schubert’s lullaby. His ragged breathing eased into a soft hush, leaving Schubert’s singing the only noticeable sound in the room. As Chopin grew sleepier, Schubert lowered his volume. Powerless to fight it any longer, his eyes closed, and the sick man succumbed to slumber.

Schubert went on a little longer to ensure Chopin was asleep before he switched to humming instead. He brought out the washcloth again (no longer as cold but still plenty damp) and lifted the sheets to uncover Chopin’s head. Thankfully, the other man offered no resistance as Schubert gave a tentative pat to his face. Schubert smiled at the sight of him; peaceful and unguarded with eyes closed and brows unfurrowed, lips slightly parted as he heard Chopin begin to snore. Satisfied with his work, Schubert folded the cloth on Chopin's forehead and ended the private performance with a sigh. 

_A job well done_ , he thought to himself. Now, time to return to senpai!

What he did not expect when he turned to exit the room was Liszt sitting up on the floor, clapping in a way that made no sound and admiration in her eyes. Heat rose to his cheeks, both flattered and embarrassed that someone coherent listened to him singing without his knowledge. Schubert avoided her gaze with an awkward smile and, unable to speak due to the person asleep in the room, left flustered without saying anything. _Why couldn't she have woken up sooner?!_

Schubert reentered the kitchen, still trying to shake off his self consciousness. It was surprisingly easy once he laid eyes on senpai again, who stood at the kitchen counter pouring over some kind of recipe with a glare. He knocked his knuckles on the doorway to signal his return. Beethoven jerked his head in the direction of the sound and softened his gaze.

"I apologize, Beethoven-senpai. I am back from my duties."

"Good! I was beginning to worry. Come here now, I need you to taste this for me."

"Yes, sir!"

Still...part of Schubert was glad. It felt good to be useful, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frederic Chopin's last words on October 17th, 1849: "The Earth is suffocating… Swear to make them cut me open, so that I won't be buried alive".


	3. Mozart (& Hasshie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter, but a chapter nonetheless. Posted just in time for Mozart's birthday, too! Happy birthday!

Compared to the other Classicaloids, Mozart enjoyed sleeping in a little later. It was still morning when he woke up, though, and his lack of schedule meant that he took his time getting ready. Brushing through his luxurious pink hair everyday always took some time no matter what, but he had gotten quite skilled at putting it in the braid Professor Otowa retaught him how to make. Once dressed in his usual attire with his hair taken care of, Mozart skated down the hallway. He had almost forgotten about last night's excitement until he saw Liszt sitting in her robe in the living room below all alone. An unusual silence had fallen over the household - strange, how missing the quietest member of their strange little family meant things got even quieter.

"Oh! Good morning, Liszt!" He waved enthusiastically as he leaned over the railing.

"Shhh. Not so loud, Cho-chan is trying to rest." Liszt scolded in a soft tone.

"Oh yeah..." He replied back with an apologetic smile, keeping his voice low.

Deciding to forgo any skating tricks, Mozart descended the stairs like a normal person. Liszt looked...different, without her make up. Today even more so; light bags sat underneath her eyes, her hair slightly unkempt, and smile weary. No doubt caring for a sick person all night wore her out. From what Mozart saw of Chopin in the hallway, he was in pretty rough shape, too. 

"Is Chopin gonna be okay?" Mozart asked, plopping down in the chair across from her.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Cho-chan just has a bit of a tummy bug. He feels bad, but he'll be over it in a few days."

"Poor Chopin...I should go see him later and cheer him up!" Liszt stiffed at that response.

"I'm . . . not sure that's a good idea," Liszt started, tension in her shoulders. "You know he's not much of people's person and I think he'd rather just be left alone when he's like this."

"I won't bother him long! I just want to help Chopin feel better, that's all!" Mozart stood up with enthusiasm, only to have have Liszt stand up to push his shoulders down to sit.

"Well, I _do_ apperciate the love you have for Cho-chan, but. . . " Liszt trailed off as Mozart looked at her with inquisitive eyes. "Oh! I just remembered! If you would excuse me, I need to take care of something. Please, stay here!"

Liszt stood up from her seat and left in a hurry. Mozart only blinked at this, confused at what motivated her to go all of the sudden. Maybe she forgot something?

"Oh, okay! Bye then!" He guessed he had to entertain himself, then.

Hanging around the house was pretty boring when it meant staying so quiet all day. While the mansion was impressive in size, the walls were old and thin, meaning sound traveled easily. So far, Mozart had only gotten yelled at a couple of times to stop making noise. He considered that an accomplishment! He really was trying his best, even if the others thought differently. He wanted Chopin to get better as much as everyone else. Even if it meant no bouncing balls or skating tricks inside the house...well, he technically was forbidden to do those things beforehand, but now everyone in the house enforced those rules. Not just Kanae.

Speaking of, maybe he could go visit Chopin now! A few long hours had passed, and Mozart wanted to do something for Chopin to help him feel better. He wondered the best way to cheer up the hikkikomori. He rarely talked to Chopin in general. Well, the best way to find out was to ask!

Mozart rolled down the hallway towards Liszt's room. _Must be nice, sleeping in a girl's bed._ Sometimes Mozart questioned the standing of their relationship, seeing as they were so close and all. Liszt was the only person Chopin felt comfortable talking to, touching, hugging...but in the end, he always decided Liszt was too much like his mom for that to work. Chopin probably preferred 2D, anyways. 

Mozart arrived at his destination to see Hasshie standing at the doorway, still as a statue. He stared ahead, unblinking. 

"Hey, buddy. What are you doing here?" Mozart approached him, holding out his hand to give him a pet. "I need to get through here, kay, Hasshie?"

Hasshie smacked him away with his wing and flailed around the entrance of the doorway as he kicked and snapped his beak. Mozart jerked backwards and fell onto his back on the floor with a yelp, startled by the bird's sudden outburst. When he crawled far enough back, Hasshie settled down once more.

"Woah, what's gotten into him...?" 

Mozart got back on his feet and contemplated what to do. He took a few cautious steps forward until he was met with the same reaction. He took a step back, and Hasshie calmed down. Step forward, upset, step back, calm. Mozart repeated this a few times, snickering to himself, until he remembered his original goal. He wanted to get to Chopin! Maybe the others knew what angered Hasshie. Mozart ran down the hall a little louder than he should until he reached the banister to the living room.

"Guys-!"

"Shh!" Liszt sat by herself in the living room reading a magazine.

"Sorry!" Mozart whispered and hurried down the stairs. "Something really weird just happened. Hasshie tried to attack me!"

"Oh, him?" Liszt nonchalantly turned the page. "I bribed him with fish to be Cho-chan's guard shoebill for today. Sounds like it worked!"

"Aw, geeze. Can't you call him off? I want to see Chopin!"

"Not today. No worries, it's not just you, darling. I don't want anybody disturbing Cho-chan right now. Stress might make him sick again, and he's finally keeping down water."

"Okaaaay..." Mozart sighed. He wanted to help...

\---

"Ah, my kitten! You're home!"

"Hey, Liszt-san." Kanae greeted, walking through the threshold.

Mozart sat on the floor of the living room nearby. On any other day, he would have greeted Kanae when she came home. However, today he was faced with an annoying problem - a huge wad of hair had gotten tangled in his heelys. He sat by the couch, preoccupied with his left shoe and half eavesdropping on the conversation taking place nearby.

"Did you have a good day at school? Any love confessions from boys?"

"I-it was fine." She dodged the question. So, none then. That was fine, Mozart disliked the thought of Kanae dating anybody from her school. "Uhm, how's Cho-chan-san doing?"

"Ooh, Cho-chan's okay, but it could be better. He hasn't thrown up at all since I woke up, but his fever is still high and he's very weak. The poor thing asked for his cell phone a little while ago, but fell asleep not long after with it still in his hand." 

"Aw. Well, at least he hasn’t gotten sick again. You two let me know if you need anything, alright?"

Kanae started to walk deeper into the house, but Liszt walked in front of her to stop her.

"That's right! Kitten, I do need to ask you for something!" Liszt grasped Kanae's hand in her own, eliciting a wince.

"What is it...?"

"You see, Cho-chan is still far too weak to move back into his own room tonight, so I'm going to let him sleep in my bed again." Her voice began to pick up speed as she got excited. "And, well, I'm not too excited at the idea of sleeping on the floor again, you know? So, I was thinking...!"

"Yeah?"

"I could stay with you, Kitten! It'll be a sleepover!" Liszt announced, squealing at the idea of spending the night with Kanae.

"Liszt-san, you can't-" Kanae started, brows furrowed as she pulled her hands away from Liszt. 

"You have a pretty big bed, don't you? There will be plenty of room! I could paint your nails, I've gotten really good at it!"

"Nonono! I mean. N-No, Liszt-san. You can't sleep in my bed. I'm putting my foot down as the landlady." She stomped slightly for effect.

"Aww...that's too bad. Still, I'd like a place to sleep. Hmm..." Liszt looked around the room thoughtfully when her eyes lands on Mozart, still hunched over his shoe as he struggled to dislodge the wheel through the long strands of pink hair. "What about Motes' room?!"

"Wait, what?!” He pulled on the wheel suddenly from shock as his brain picked up the last bit of their conversation. It shot across the room, narrowly avoiding taking out a window with it in the process. Instead, it bounced off of the adjacent wall before rolling back and coming to a stop in front of the girls. “Why don't I get a say in this?!"

"Well, Liszt-san doooes pay the rent..." Kanae glanced at the wheel that almost caused serious destruction as if to further her point.

"She can just sleep in Chopin's room!" Mozart argued, his arms thrown in the air at the unfair treatment. 

Liszt huffed. "His germs will be all over everything! We may share a lot but that's one thing I'd rather he keep to himself. Besides, Cho-chan doesn't have a real bed. A lady like myself needs a bed." 

"Please, Motes? It'd be a big help!" Kanae pleaded with an unnatural smile. 

"And you did want to help Cho-chan, did you not?" Liszt added, a softer, pleading expression on her face as well.

Mozart glanced at Kanae's nervous face. He may seem like an idiot, but he could read people, and he understood that the last thing Kanae wanted was a slumber party with Liszt.

With a reluctant sigh, Mozart gave in, "Fine...guess I'll sleep on the couch in Sousuke's room."

\------------------

Hours later, Mozart stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling of Sousuke’s room. The couch was plenty large enough for one person to sleep on, thank goodness. However, the cushions were hard, even with extra pillows padding it, and Mozart struggled to get comfortable. He wanted to help, but not like this! Grunting, Mozart shoved the blanket to his feet and sat up. No sleep was to be had right now with how uncomfortable this couch felt, and Mozart was too awake. _Well, at least Sousuke has some cool stuff in his room._

He could occupy himself until he grew tired enough to sleep. Hopefully Chopin recovered soon, Mozart had no idea how long he could-

Wait. Chopin! Everyone had fallen asleep by now, right? Even Hasshie! Sure, it was late, but he could at least check on the sick man. Maybe he needed something. Mozart left the room in a hurry but kept his steps light to ensure no one discovered his secret outing. He tiptoed to Liszt’s room to discover Hasshie still sat there - but now asleep. Practically holding his breath, Mozart approached the door and took one large step over the bird. He twisted the handle and slooowly pushed the door open. Thankfully, Liszt’s door was not squeaky like some of the other doors in Otowakan. Mozart caught a glimpse of Chopin as he entered the room, but his concerns at the moment lied on dodging Hasshie’s wrath. Once inside, he turned the handle all the way to prevent it from making a sound as he closed the door back. Only when the door shut completely did he allow himself a huge breath of relief.

Success! That obstacle out of the way, Mozart turned back to Chopin. Come to think of it, maybe he should have brought some water? Or a towel?

As he approached the bed, pale moonlight shone through the crack in the curtains to reveal his sleeping form. Eyes adjusting, Mozart realized Chopin had no blankets. Or he did, rather, they laid strewn about off the side of the bed as if kicked off in a fit. All that remained covering his body was a single sheet, twisted and tangled around him as he shivered violently, teeth chattering in his sleep.

“Wow, that looks super uncomfortable…” Mozart mused.

With a hum, Mozart reached forward and grabbed the edges of the sheet wrapped around Chopin’s shoulders. He half expected the other to shoot up suddenly, maybe do something creepy in the way only Chopin could, but he only laid there, shaking. It took a moment to figure out how on earth he had mummified himself before Mozart unraveled the strange Chopin burrito. His last barrier between his body and the unforgiving draft in the room gone, Chopin curled in on himself, a whimper vibrating out of his throat from between his clacking teeth. 

“Hold on, hold on…” He worried giving it back right away might prompt Chopin to roll himself back up.

Mozart gathered the back corners of the sheet, the blanket, and the comforter together, and he tucked in the edges under the mattress to keep them in place. He then picked the other ends off the floor and realigned them neatly on top of one another. With one front corner in each hand, he placed the blankets back over Chopin’s shoulders and tucked him back in. A few moments passed before Mozart heard the rattling stop and saw the harsh shake in his back subside. Chopin snored, just a bit. Funny, Mozart expected it to be louder with that nose of his.

Considering his work here done, Mozart headed back out the doorway to let Chopin sleep. He slipped out of the room and closed the door gently. Mozart turned - and forgot about the enemy in front of the door. Hasshie chased him, and the following pursuit woke up several members of the household down the hall.

But at the very least, Chopin slept well that night.


	4. Beethoven

Chopin awoke the next morning to discover his mind was a little more lucid than the day before; still fuzzy around the edges, but he could think without immediately exhausting himself. With his better state of mind, he had noticed two things: one, his nausea had finally dissipated; and two, he had an awful, pounding headache that radiated through his entire skull. It negated some of his newfound ability to think. The only thought that came to mind was that he felt irritated, with no real reason as to why.

Despite the pain, his eyes fluttered open to a thankfully darkened room. He wondered what time it was. Light was trapped behind the curtains, so it must be day time, but when? He turned his head, thankful to see Liszt sitting in a chair nearby on her phone.

"Li...szt...?" His throat hurt.

Most of his body ached, actually; muscles from his jaw to his abdomen protesting from strain. Memories of yesterday (what little there were) came back to him. Namely the twilight hours of the morning, unable to stop vomiting at regular intervals until the sun rose. It was nothing short of misery, and Liszt brought up the possibility of a hospital visit if the throwing up continued, a threat that loomed over his head through the night.

He finally fell asleep around five (or was it six?), huddling against Liszt's body for comfort. The rest of the day was an uneventful blur; Chopin did little else other than sleep and drink water. Liszt tried to feed him once, bringing him a plate of crackers, but Chopin shot it down instantly. The important part was keeping water down, lest he leave the safety of Liszt’s room for a bunch of uncaring men in white coats. He had dealt with more than enough of those in his short life.

"Cho-chan! Good morning!" Liszt stood up and brushed some hair out of his face. He peered up at her, eyes half open, to her tender gaze. "How do you feel?"

Chopin felt his brain chug for an answer, like his computer when it started to overheat from running too many programs at once. "...Sore. My head hurts...I'm not nauseous though..." Her chipper attitude annoyed him, but he knew better than to say anything.

"Poor baby, anyone would feel sore after the night you had." Liszt adjusted her fingers to feel his forehead. "You had a 39 degree fever yesterday, but I think it's down."

"Did I...?" Chopin tried to sit up, but his body was weak. He gave up rather quickly as a result and slunk back down against the fluffy pillows. 

"Still sleepy?"

"No...it's just kind of hard to move..." Chopin sighed. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten in the morning. Is there anything you need?" Liszt asked, pulling her hand away from his forehead. He thought about requesting his phone, but the light would probably hurt his eyes and worsen his headache.

"No...just quiet..."

\-----

"SCHUBERT!" Beethoven roared. "IT IS COMPLETE!"

"Wonderful work, senpai!" Schubert applauded with a grin.

Beethoven looked down at the fruits of his labor, a large pot of chicken soup before him. Sure, he wrecked the kitchen a bit in the process, kitchenware strewn about and some chicken got stuck on the ceiling, but it was for a worthy cause! A member of the household had fallen ill, and if there was one thing Beethoven enjoyed, it was cooking.

He spent most of yesterday trying different recipes and perfecting his new masterpiece for Chopin to eat in the hopes that it would help him feel better. Though the man had taste tested some of his more unsavory dishes, he took extra care to ensure this was not one of them.

"Shall we take it to Chopin?" Schubert asked, retrieving a small bowl from a broth splattered cabinet.

"Hmm..." Beethoven crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "I do not know if he's awake yet. Let's go see! If not, we can always put it in the fridge for later."

Beethoven ladled a small serving into the bowl Schubert had brought down and headed up the stairs with Schubert in tow. He knocked on the door sternly and waited for an answer. Liszt opened the door, a little tired and annoyed looking, but clearly doing her best to hide it.

"Good morning, Liszt. Is Chopin awake?" Beethoven asked. "We would like to come in."

"Ah, he is, but Cho-chan is a bit grumpy and I'm not sure if-..." She trailed off suddenly, having caught a whiff of the dish Beethoven made. "My, that smells delicious. Is this what you were working on?"

"Indeed! You said you had difficulty getting Chopin to eat, did you not? I have made a soup, healthy and easy to digest!"

Liszt looked between Schubert and Beethoven pointedly before opening the door wider. "Alright. But only one of you, I don't want Cho-chan getting overwhelmed."

Schubert motioned to the door. "Please, Beethoven-senpai. You worked so hard on it, after all." 

Beethoven didn't need to be told twice and entered the room, confident in his soup. Chopin looked so small in the bed, curled on his side and staring at the wall. His hair pointed in even more directions than usual, obscuring his eyes, and Beethoven only knew he was watching when the too pale face turned to look at him.

"What are you doing here...?" His voice croaked the first couple of syllables, sounding sore. 

"Cho-chan, Beethoven cooked you some soup. Isn't that nice of him? It's been so long since you've eaten. You should try some!"

Chopin made a face Beethoven could only describe as a pout as he flipped over onto his other side, his back to his “guest”. "As if. I'm not eating anything that man's made."

"Why is that?" Beethoven questioned.

"Tch. You know why....I'm not getting food poisoning on top of this. Just go away."

"I understand your hesitation, but those were nothing more than experiments. Any fool can follow a recipe!" Beethoven reassured, and he would have gestured if not for the bowl of soup in his hand.

"I said I don't want any of your shitty soup." Chopin affirmed, annoyed at their officious behavior and massaging his temple. Beethoven wondered if his head hurt.

"Cho-chan!" Liszt gasped. "Rude! Watch your language!" Beethoven glanced over at Liszt, his uncharacteristic attitude had not gone unnoticed by her either. 

"This soup is not 'shitty'!” Beethoven declared, sympathy for Chopin diminishing slightly at the insult. “I have included a variety of ingredients to help your body fight off your illness!" His voice grew in volume as he continued to emphasize his point. "Vegetables full of vitamins! Ginger to help settle your stomach! There's-"

"If I try it will you _please_ stop yelling and go away?" Chopin asked, rubbing his eyes with a groan.

"Yes!"

"Fine..."

Chopin sat up in bed, struggling to get situated. No doubt that the lack of food for the past day seriously contributed to his body's weakness, whether he realized it or not.

Beethoven had already figured that was where his sour mood originated from - normally non confrontational, starving himself brought out a nasty side of Chopin. Beethoven had been taught quite recently the healing power of food. A good meal would certainly fix Chopin right up. He handed the bowl off to Liszt, who tried to feed it to him, holding a spoonful of broth to Chopin. 

"Say aah, Cho-chan!"

"I can do it myself..." He muttered with a blush, shakily taking the bowl and spoon from her hands. 

He trembled, but managed to get a spoonful into his mouth. That Beethoven saw it - just a split second, for Chopin's pride would not allow any more than that - his gold eyes widened in surprise for a moment as he took his first bite, a flicker of enjoyment passing through his features. Beethoven grinned triumphantly with his hands on his hips, but Chopin only averted his eyes to hide his approval. 

"It's not terrible..." He admitted.

"Good! As promised, I will leave now. There is more downstairs in the fridge whenever you would like it. Stay strong, Chopin, and feel better!" Beethoven turned to make his leave, smirking to himself at the sound of the spoon clinking against the glassware as Chopin ate more.

Schubert stood just outside the door, waiting loyally with praise on the tip of his tongue. “Don’t listen to him, Beethoven-senpai. Your work was wonderful!”

“Do not fret, Schubert.” Beethoven said as he walked away from the door. “I know for a fact he enjoyed it.”

“As he should!” Schubert replied with a nod, following behind Beethoven to the kitchen to help clean before Kanae saw the mess.

\----

Chopin tried to blame how good the soup tasted on his lack of eating in the past day and a half. Yesterday, he worried that eating may make him sick, but the opposite proved to be true. He felt worlds better with something in his stomach; his nasty, hunger-induced headache had vanished, and on top of that, some of his strength returned. He sat up, using his phone and chatting to Liszt without difficulty. With his mind clearer, Chopin’s memory improved, too.

“Ah...that’s right…” He said in the midst of a lull in the conversation. Chopin stared up at the ceiling, hair obscuring his eyes, as memories from yesterday came to him.

“Yes, Cho-chan?” Liszt asked.

“I just remembered something. About yesterday….th-thank you…” Recalling her help was embarrassing, but it gave him a warm, happy feeling to know how much she cared.

“Aaa, you’re welcome darling. What are friends for?” She clapped her hands together with a smile.

“You haven’t sang to me since that time, huh?” _Since that time at the lab when everything was new and scary._

“Singing…? Oh!” She chuckled and waved her hand. “That part wasn’t me, actually. That was Schubert! Doesn’t he have a lovely voice?”

“Schubert…?” Chopin wanted to feel violated that someone other than Liszt came to see him like this, but he couldn’t muster up the anger for it. Overall, he felt shocked that anyone in the house other than his best friend cared about him or his well being. “D-did anyone else come in here?”

“No, it was only- oh wait, that’s right. Mozart was here!” Chopin responded with a horrified face, which only made Liszt laugh louder. “He wasn’t _allowed_ in here, mind you! I wouldn't allow that! But he came in anyways. He said he wanted to check on you. Hasshie scared him off and woke up half the house when he left. You were fast asleep, though, so he must not have bothered you too much.”

“I...I see…”

Chopin went quiet for a moment. Those two idiots came to see him? Just because he was sick? Not only them, but…

“Hey Liszt?”

“Yes?”

“Can you bring me some more of that soup...?”

\--------------------

Liszt joined the others for dinner that night. Everyone was present, save for the one empty seat next for her. She brought Cho-chan his dinner a while ago, glad to see that his appetite was returning. After eating, he had asked to return to his room where he promptly fell asleep, body recovering but still a little feverish and tired.

It was nice to be among her other friends, and also Sousuke. Speaking of which, the tool was explaining where he had been the day before. Liszt tuned the story out, uninterested, and took a sip of her drink.

“...Sounds like I missed some excitement though. Poor Chopin-san, I hope he feels better soon.” He said with concern as he took another bite.

“It wasn’t really that exciting. It was pretty quiet around here, actually.” Kanae responded. “Liszt-san, has Cho-chan-san’s fever broken?”

“Not yet, my kitten. He was still warm when he fell asleep an hour ago. Perhaps a good night’s rest will do the trick.”

“I hope so. I’ll wash all your sheets tonight before bed, the last thing we need is for this thing to spread to someone else,” Kanae told her before standing up to put her dirty dishes in the slink

Liszt laughed to herself about that. If only she knew how clingy and needy Cho-chan could be when he wanted her comfort! If she was going to catch it, she certainly would have by now. Still, she appreciated her dear kitten wanted to prevent her from getting sick. 

Speaking of Cho-chan, her phone went off in her pocket. Liszt knew it was a text from him before she even looked at the screen. Kitten normally preferred no phones at the table, but Liszt figured she could make an exception just this once.

“Oh, there’s Cho-chan now. Maybe he’s lonely?” Liszt tapped the screen to open the message.

_franz please come here_

Liszt shot up out of her seat without hesitation and sprinted towards Chopin’s room. Kanae called behind her asking what was wrong, but she ignored it. Chopin would never send that kind of message if it wasn’t urgent. Once at the door, she practically threw it open.

“Frederic?!” She called.

Chopin cowered under the comforter at his futon, body shaking underneath. He grabbed at his hair and jerked his head up to look at her, wide and wild, his breathing too short and too fast. Liszt ran over to his side and fell to her knees. He flinched, but stayed seated.

“F-Franz…”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here now. Can I touch you?”

“N-no…”

“That’s okay. I’m just going to sit right here, then.” She put her hands on her knees, ready to talk him through it. It hurt her to see him this way, she thought for sure his stability had improved after leaving the laboratory. Perhaps the illness left him feeling vulnerable? Whatever the case, she had coaxed him out of this multiple times in the past. She could do it again and again if necessary. “We’re not at the facility any more, remember? You’re at home. You’re safe, and I’m safe too, and-”

“No, Franz, I-I mean...this isn’t...this isn’t what this is.” He whispered, his voice uneven as he trembled again. 

“It isn’t?” _That’s certainly what it looked like._ “Then, what’s wrong?”

Chopin swallowed hard, still struggling to breath. Liszt stared at him patiently, eyes roaming his tense body as she waited for him to say something. _Anything._ After what felt like an eternity, he licked his lips and forced himself to speak.

“I...I remembered.” Chopin wheezed. “I remembered what it was like to die.”


	5. Liszt

Liszt stared at him, mouth agape. Due to the nature of being a Classicaloid, it was common to recall memories of their past life. What they remembered varied: happy memories, sad memories, traumatic memories...they arrived without warning, leaving a strange patchwork of information behind. By nature, Liszt tended to be quite unaffected whenever a memory popped into her mind. She always possessed a boundless confidence in herself, and living with Kitten and Cho-chan and the others contented her.

Chopin was different. When he remembered something, it often put him in a bad mood. Thoughts of George Sand and sickness plagued him the most, though he occasionally recalled good times with Liszt. It frightened her to think where he might be mentally right now without her. Despite all this, Liszt never thought the Classicaloids had the capacity to remember something so traumatic. It never even crossed her mind! Out of all the people to discover, it was Cho-chan, Frederic, this sad and confused man often too frightened to even leave the house, a place where he should feel safe, and yet thoughts of the past tormented him.

Chopin's face crumpled, and a sob tore through his chest. She wanted to ask in detail what all he knew, but it would have to wait. "Oh no, Frederic..." Liszt cooed, reaching out to pull him into her hold. 

Chopin was already ahead of her as he threw his arms around her and sobbed openly. With a soft 'oof', Liszt braced herself with her hand on the floor to avoid falling over. She re-positioned him until he sat in her lap, his head tucked under her chin as she rubbed small circles into his back. He cried, he cried harder than Liszt had ever seen before, rendered inconsolable. Harsh sobs punctuated quiet, haunting wails; body wracking and gasping for air, faster and faster until it soon became apparent he _was_ having an attack. An awful, terrible one.

"You have to breathe, Cho-chan..." Liszt finally spoke up when she realized he might hyperventilate, reverting back to his nickname in an effort to keep him calm. "Can you breathe with me, Cho-chan? In...and out...In...and out..."

Chopin struggled at first, choking on air, but Liszt repeated the mantra as she rocked his body back and forth in a careful rhythm. He kept in time with her, squeezing his thin arms around her with the fabric of her shirt curled up in a white knuckled grip, as if she might disappear if he let her go. Liszt knew there was no stopping his tears until they ran out, so the least she could do was prevent him from passing out. He settled down, barely; his breathing stable, but he continued to cry on to Liszt’s shoulder.

It took nearly an hour for him to calm down, Liszt having sat up back against the wall for support with a slowly expanding pile of tissues next to her. It was a slow process; sobs growing farther and farther apart, wails turning into whimpers, then silence. The death hold on her clothes loosened, and Liszt wondered if he had cried himself to sleep. His cheek felt hot against the bare skin under her neck, no doubt stress brought his temperature back up. She shifted her legs, intending to put Chopin back to bed and think over this entire ordeal, when his grip tightened again. She froze and waited for him to say something.

"I-I don't want to die again..." He hiccuped, his voice small and desolated. Liszt had nothing to say to him, only running his hand through his hair in a comforting gesture. "Th-this isn't right..."

"I know, darling, I know. No one should ever have to recall such a thing." She reassured. 

"N-no, Franz. L-listen to me." He pushed himself up and stared at her, eyes swollen and nose red. "It's us who aren't right...we shouldn't be alive right now."

Liszt blinked in confusion, taken back by his statement. "What are you saying? Isn't it wonderful to see all the love and adoration people share for us and our music, over 200 years afterwards?"

"Th-that's not the problem." Chopin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and forced his voice to steady. "It's just...I'm online a lot, you know. And our names bring up a lot of search results."

"A lot of modern day musicians want to learn about us. It's love!"

"No, no." Chopin shook his head, anger rising at Liszt’s lack of understanding. "Enough with that...Don't you know all of our personal information is up there? Our letters, our histories, all up online for anyone to read with a quick search...! It's mortifying..."

"Aww, you're embarrassed?" Liszt had no clue what this had to do with remembering his death, but he seemed upset regardless. "Is that what this is all about?"

"I...n-no." He deflated, voice quieter now. "It's more than that. Chopin...the real Chopin...died a long time ago."

Liszt blinked, unable to comprehend such a statement. "You are the real-"

"No, I'm not. I shouldn't be here. Y-you shouldn't be here. None of us in the mansion should be here!" Chopin's voice rose in speed, gasping for breath as he went on. "I died- no, he died, and that should have been the end of it for me- h-himandI-I-"

Liszt grabbed his shoulders with a firm squeeze. "Frederic, you're going to give yourself another panic attack. Breathe, and listen to me." Chopin put his head in his hands, inhaling and exhaling carefully. "We may be a little different, but our minds are still the same, no?" His head shot up.

"A _little_? For God's sake, you're a _woman_!"

"I don't mind-"

"That's not the point!" He threw his arms into the air and slid out of her lap onto the floor. Another first: never had Liszt witnessed Chopin so worked up into a frenzy. "We're- we're copies, Liszt. We have memories of these things, but we never experienced them. We were never meant to be. We're just a bunch of freaks grown in a lab. We shouldn't exist."

"Well," Liszt started, desperate not to crack from this stress. Taking care of Chopin physically was easy, but this was a little out of her understanding. Normally, Chopin could be coaxed out of his bad moods with a cuddle, or a day to himself to think things over. Not...not this, someone desperate for answers Liszt wasn't sure existed. "If we're copies, then why would you get upset over personal information of Chopin online?"

"I...I don't really know. It doesn't feel right, but that's only because I remember the things they're talking about...I act like the person they're talking about...but that's not me,” Chopin tried to explain, struggling to put it into words.

"You're not making sense, Cho-chan. Maybe you should lie back down, I think your fever's going up again." As Liszt reached forward with her hand to check, Chopin swatted it away, malice in eyes. Liszt redrew with a gasp, stunned that Chopin would hit her.

"You're not listening to me!" He yelled. Almost throwing a tantrum, really, but Liszt tried to force herself to remember he was sick and in a very bad place right now. "You're just like the others. It'd be better off if I was never created!"

"Frederic, don't you ever say something like that!"

"I already did! Sorry it doesn't fit in with your...love ideology _bullshit_!" 

As soon as the statement left Chopin’s mouth, the instant shock of offense was written all over her face; mouth agape and brows furrowed. "Excuse me!?"

"Y-you heard me. It's bullshit. I'm honestly tired of hearing you talk about it." The volume in his voice fell, almost as if he was ashamed to say it the moment it came out of his mouth, but he said it anyway, unable to stop now.

Liszt rose to her feet, giving her an immediate leverage over the still kneeling Chopin. She put her hands on her hips and bent forward, staring him dead in the eyes. Her face, normally bright with love, now held intense fury; her lips in a thin line, her eyes burning with rage, and Chopin cowered underneath her glare. Unable to keep his eyes on her, he looked away, his body tense when she opened her mouth. "Who's been taking care of you for the past two days straight? Who kept up with your temperature and gave you medicine? Who rubbed your back all night long when you couldn't stop throwing up? Who's been taking care of you the MOMENT you crawled out of that pod? And this is the thanks I get?!"

Chopin looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. It was too harsh, but she was right and he knew it. He pulled his knees up to his chest, buried his face between them, and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Just leave me alone..." He muttered.

"Fr-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He practically screamed.

"Fine! You sulk in your room all by yourself, see where it gets you!" Liszt stood upright and headed towards the door. Part of her was glad he had kicked her out, but another part was begging him to ask her to stay. She opened the door slowly, but closed it with more force than she intended to. It shut with a SLAM, and she let out a heavy sigh. Before she could even walk away from the door, she heard the stifled sobs coming from inside.

There was no use going back. Not right now, anyways. 

\----

Between the thin walls and the fact that Chopin's room was located near the stairs, everyone in the living room caught on to the ensuing drama quickly.

They were unable to hear what it was about, but still recognized something terrible transpiring upstairs. Still, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and Sousuke tried to ignore the initial sounds of Chopin's crying, all deeming that it was not their problem and too scared of Liszt's wrath to try and butt in. It only got awkward when the shouting match started; conversations dying out in exchange for staring at the floor, wide eyed. There was something disturbing about hearing close friends yell at each other.

When the door slammed, everyone except for Beethoven jumped in their seat. The sound of Liszt's heels clicking angrily against the hardwood floor grew louder as she advanced towards the living room. The tension for someone to say something was palpable as she started walking down the stairs, heels stomping on each step. As she passed by, they exchanged glances, waiting for someone to break the tension and ask.

"Uhm..." Sousuke was the one to crack, a bad idea considering she didn't like him. But Chopin-san was one of his close friends, so he had to say something. "Liszt-san?"

"I need a goddamn drink!" Liszt called out as she headed towards the kitchen.

"O-okay! You do that!" Sousuke told her in a squeak. They all waited until the door shut behind her before looking back at each other.

"What on earth was that about?" Schubert asked as he wrung his hands.

"It's scary to think friends as close as them COULD fight..." Mozart said, frowning.

"Even the closest of companions fight sometimes, Wolf." Beethoven stated. 

None of them seemed interested in actually pursuing it further. Sousuke stood up, tucking Pad-kun underneath his arm. "Well, I'm gonna go find out what happened." The three men turned to look at him in shock.

"Sousuke, I'm not sure that's a good idea..." Pad-kun piped up, essentially verbalizing everyone's thoughts. "Liszt-san isn't exactly a fan of you, you know."

"Yeah, well...Chopin-san is still my friend, and I want to help him!" Sousuke headed after her and left Pad-kun no choice but to follow along.

"Very well." Pad-kun's digital expression changed to that of resignation.

"Don't die!" Mozart chirped.

\-----

Liszt entered the kitchen in a huff. Kitten was in there, working on the dishes from both tonight's dinner and rewashing some of the kitchen ware Beethoven and Schubert failed to clean to her standards. Liszt grabbed a wine glass from the cabinet and opened the fridge with a huff and poured herself a drink without saying a word. Kitten looked at her, eyebrow raised.

"Uhm...Liszt-san? Is everything okay? You ran off to take care of Cho-chan-san, then things went quiet for awhile, then I heard the door slam from all the way in here..." 

"OH! MY KITTEN!" Liszt cried, throwing her arms around the girl. She wriggled a little, but doing the dishes meant she had her arms elbow deep in the sink and couldn't escape. "Cho-chan and I had a fight...it was awful."

"A-a fight?" Kitten asked, muffled. "Please let go of me..." Liszt obeyed, mostly so she could take a long sip from her glass. “You two are so close...what happened?”

"Yes, a fight...it's very complicated, but you see, the reason I left in such a hurry…” Liszt leaned in close, not wanting the possibility of the others to hear. “Cho-chan had a flashback to his own death."

"He what?!" A plate slipped from her hands and into the water, splashing Kitten with soapy water. Liszt grabbed a nearby dish towel and wiped off her face. "That's crazy. I didn't know you all could remember such a thing."

"Neither did I! But I need you to listen to me before I keep going. It goes without saying, but this matter is incredibly serious. It has to be our little secret. I don't need any of the others finding out and triggering memories of their own deaths, and I don't need the tool finding out and telling the others and triggering memories of their own deaths. Do you understand?" Kitten nodded fiercely in response. "Good."

"Actually, Sousuke's been eavesdropping on you for the past couple of minutes." Said a digital voice from behind the cracked kitchen door.

"PAD-KUN!" Sousuke cried.

"Oh! You can't be serious!" Liszt yanked the door open to reveal the tool standing there with a nervous smile. She grabbed him by the back of the collar and pulled him into the kitchen. "If you tell anybody about this I am NOT afraid to kick your ass, do you understand me?"

"I understand! I understand!" Sousuke yelped and shielded his head with Pad-kun.

“Please refrain from breaking me! Sousuke brought me against my will!”

"Well, better Sousuke than one of the others..." Kitten interjected. "You will keep this a secret...right?" She asked Sousuke with a pointed look.

"Of course I will! I just want Chopin-san to feel better, that's all!" The two eased off of him somewhat. "That's a pretty tough thing to cheer someone up from, though..."

"I couldn't imagine..." Said kitten.

"I never really even thought about the fact everyone was dead before. How did Chopin-san even die...?"

Chopin’s death...She thought she would never see him again. Liszt opened her mouth to speak, but the tablet was faster on the uptake as always.

"Frédéric François Chopin died on October 17th, 1849 at the age of thirty-nine. He was diagnosed and treated for tuberculosis throughout his lifetime, but the validity of this diagnosis and his actual cause of death are up for debate. Cystic fibrosis is another popular theory, due to family history and unusual symptoms such as possible infertility and frequent bouts of dia-"

"That's more than enough information, Pad-kun!" Sousuke told him.

"You asked."

Liszt sighed heavily. "Was that what he meant about the internet?” She shook her head and took another drink from her glass. “Nevermind. That’s not important right now.”

“So...how did that result in a fight?” Kitten questioned, scrubbing at a pan.

“He was in such a fragile state of mind...he started going on and on about how he was a freak, some kind of knock off of the past Chopin that never should have been made.” Liszt hoisted herself onto the counter and sat down. She swirled the wine left in the glass and stared into it, contemplative. “I blame the agency. They didn’t know how to handle his...issues. Honestly I can’t even say that because neither did I, at the time. Cho-chan’s always been sensitive, but you know the way he feared everyone when he first got here? Extreme. I worried it was permanent.”

“If the problem is coming from all the way back then, maybe that’s where we should start.” The younger woman said as she drained the sink. Smart enough to know this conversation would be a long one, Kitten grabbed a mug from the counter top, poured herself some juice from the fridge, and leaned against the kitchen island. “What happened at the agency?” Sousuke perked up and sat on the counter next to Liszt, earning a side eyed glare.

“Well,” Liszt began. “It all started…”

\-------------------------------

“You’re waking it up already?” A voice in the darkness. It was muffled and distant, like hearing everything underwater, but still discernible.

“Yeah. Since those other two ran off, we need replacements ASAP. I’m having trouble getting the pod to drain, though.”

“I can see that...you should probably hurry up. It’s eyes are open.” Sounds became clearer as the water level started to lower.

_THUMP THUMP THUMP._

“I can see that. Just give me a minute, I think I know what the problem is.”

_THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP._

“Just open it already, we can clean it up later. You’re freaking it out.”

_THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP._

“Are you kidding me? I’m not getting all this shit all over the floor. Look, I fixed it.” A strange hum sounded somewhere from close by as the thumping grew clearer. There was a loud hiss, then suddenly awful coughing, gasping noises. In a strange way, it almost sounded familiar. 

“Easy, easy. Watch your step. Welcome, your name is Frederic Chopin.” That name…!

 _I want to open my eyes!_ It took great effort to achieve, but soon the world was filled with light. Bright at first, it dulled until everything could come into view. Three men - two older men in lab coats on each side of a younger man, supporting him by his forearms as he was too weak to stand on his own. The liquid was almost gone now, then perhaps the second pod would open too.

The thin man wheezed and coughed in an attempt to speak. “L-let go!” He croaked. Without warning, he bolted, slipping out of both of their grasps with ease due to the liquid dripping off of him. Bare feet smacked against the hard floor as he threw open the door and disappeared down the hallway.

The other pod let out the same hiss as the door suddenly swung open. “Frederic!” One of the scientists turned to watch, the other continued to stare at the door Chopin ran out of.

“Well, looks like the first female Classicaloid is awake on top of it all. Wonderful,” stated the scientist looking at her. _Wait, female?_ That sounded wrong. “I’ll notify security, no way it’ll get far. You talk to the other one while I’m gone.”

She took a step forward onto her own two feet. Somewhat unsteady, the remaining scientist walked over to her and supported her with one hand and held out a lab coat with the other. Realizing that she too was naked, she slipped it around her arms gratefully.

“Welcome. Your name is Franz Liszt. You’ve been asleep for a very long time, so you may not remember much at first. You’ve reawakened…differently, but you’ll remember things the same. Probably. Anyways, I have a memo here for you to read over that may jog your memory.” The man in the white coat smiled and produced a file with a picture of an old man on it.

“This...is me!” She exclaimed. But now she was a woman? Well, there were worse things to be than a woman, certainly. “Wait, no. What about Chopin?”

“We’ll find i-him and bring him to you. Why don’t you read over that, in the meantime?” He pushed it towards her with a hint of irritation in his smile.

“Alright.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “But you better bring him back. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, after all…”

Liszt took her time pouring over the paper, a flood of information returning to her within a few short minutes. She was Franz Liszt - a passionate Hungarian composer from the 19th century. According to the papers, it was now the 21st century in Japan. _My, how the time passed!_ She belonged to a line of experiments called the ‘Classicaloids’, a brand of artificial human with special musical abilities. Not only that, Chopin was one as well. She never thought she would see her dear friend ever again, but she was wrong! If they found him, at least…

The door creaked open. “We found it.” Announced the scientist who left moments prior.

“Ah-!” Liszt shot up from her reading, only to see he had come alone.

“Chopin barricaded himself in a supply closet. Don’t know how the skinny little guy managed it, but security can’t get the door open. We’ll have to coax it out. I told you not to scare it, idiot.”

“The important thing is it’s still in the building. It has to come out for food at some point.” The second scientist replied. Liszt frowned at the cruel idea of starving him out. 

“Maybe...maybe I could talk to him! He is one of my dearest friends, after all. He’s just...shy.” Liszt suggested. The scientists exchanged glances.

“Worth a shot.” Spoke the one at the door. “Come with me.”

Liszt followed him down the hall, buttoning up her coat as she went. It gave her the opportunity to notice her rather...ample chest, which she struggled to button up over. _Well, if I’m going to be a woman, at least I’ve gone all out!_ She failed to resist the urge to poke at them, but she quickly hid her hands behind her back when the man escorting her turned around. A few men in suits stood in front of a door, staring at her. The scientist gestured his arms to it, and Liszt stepped forward.

“Hello? It’s me, Franz Liszt! It’s so nice to see you again! Do you remember me?” She said with a knock.

“Franz Liszt…” He said, muffled through the door, as though testing the way the name felt in his mouth. “That can’t be right...I don’t know any weird women like you. You’re just trying to trick me.”

“I swear it’s me, dear. It seems I’ve come back...different, from what we remember, but I really am Franz Liszt!” A minute passed in silence.

“....Tell me something only Franz Liszt would know.” Chopin muttered. Liszt put a finger to her chin, deep in thought.

“Hmmmm...oh, remember when you gave piano lessons and you were too embarrassed to take money directly from your students?”

“...” No response.

“Oh oh, or the time when you met George Sand and you told me she looked like a repulsive little man? Then you turned around and dated her for 10 years!” He stayed quiet at first, and then...

“I’m...Frederic Chopin.” Liszt heard something shift from behind the door as something metal scraped against the ground. After a moment, he cracked the door open and peered up at her. One golden eye met hers and widened with a gasp, and Chopin reached his hand out. “You’re...Franz Liszt…!”

“That’s right! I knew you would recognize me!” Liszt clasped her hands around his own. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “Why don’t you come out now? Those men aren’t going to hurt you, they’re the ones that brought us back!”

Chopin frowned, untrusting, but started to open the door. He glanced down at himself and stopped suddenly, wanting to slam the door, but Liszt's foot was against the doorframe in a flash to prevent him from doing so. “Uhm . . .” He started to retreat back behind the door anxiously.

“What’s the matter now?”

“C-can I have a coat too?”

Things got better. At first, Chopin opened up to Liszt quite a bit. Granted, he was still incredibly shy, but he held a special kind of trust for her unlike any other. He never left her side once over the next couple of days. In such a frightening, strange world, he clung to the single thread of familiarity he had left. Liszt appreciated the familiar company herself. He had an inherent distrust of everyone else at Arkhe - Liszt soon learned was the name of the organization - not that she blamed him considering the traumatic way he came to life. The way he followed Liszt around reminded her of a lost puppy.

“You’re like my little pet, aren’t you, Cho-chan?” She asked, ruffling his messy red hair.

“Ch-cho-chan?” He blushed, but didn’t object.

They took a day to settle in, becoming more acquainted with the world and Arkhe. They received their own clothes and a living space, as well as being informed of their purpose; the two would work for Arkhe, and use their powers to give performances and spread their music to people all over the country. Liszt found the prospect very exciting - she loved to give live performances, after all! They had to start small, but that was fine. Just the opportunity to play was enough.

“Aren’t you excited?” Liszt asked as they walked back from their meeting with Arkhe.

“About what?” Chopin stared off into the distance.

“The live performances we’re having next week!”

“Oh...yeah…” 

Liszt frowned at his lack of excitement. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m...yeah, everything’s okay. I’m just tired.” Chopin rubbed his eyes.

Things got better, until they got worse.

Chopin’s health deteriorated over the next couple of days. The young man stayed so quiet, Liszt failed to notice the problem in the beginning. Her first inkling of suspicion showed itself the night before their first dress rehearsal. Liszt sat in her pajamas on her bed in their room, playing with the new ‘cell phone’ Arkhe gave her for business. What a marvelous little device! As she figured out how to use the thing, it dawned on her that Chopin had been absent for quite some time now. Perhaps the longest he had ever left Liszt alone since their awakening. She lost focus and almost went to track him down herself, when the door opened slowly. Chopin entered in his own purple pajamas, startled.

“Oh. You’re still awake…”

“I was waiting for you to come to bed. Where were you?” Liszt laid the phone down on the nightstand and looked at him.

“You didn’t have to do that…” Chopin said sheepishly. “I, uh, went to use the bathroom.”

“And?”

“...” Chopin crawled into bed.

“That whole time? Are you feeling okay?” Liszt asked with concern in her voice.

“It’s probably just something I ate. Don’t tell the doctors. Good night.” He told her quickly and dismissively, rolling over on his bed with his back facing Liszt.

“Well...alright…” Liszt murmured before she too settled in her bed to sleep.

Chopin’s various tummy troubles failed to improve. The morning before his first live performance, no one could find him. Liszt discovered him curled up in bed, arms wrapped tight around his abdomen.

“It hurts…” He wheezed. “Don’t make me go…”

The doctors knew about his issues pretty fast after that. Too sick to perform, they whisked him away to the lab to find out what went wrong. Past Chopin was sickly and weak, and Liszt realized they expected this to some degree. However, the facts didn’t quite add up. While he displayed some symptoms from his past, namely gastrointestinal ones and fatigue, others were absent entirely. That ruled out his memories tricking him into thinking he was still sick. They ran tests through the night, checking for all manner of things Chopin had or was thought to have had in the past. Liszt almost regretted telling them, as Chopin wanted nothing more than to rest and sleep it off, only to be poked and prodded again. All the immediate results came up with…

Nothing. According to all the tests, Chopin possessed not one of the plethora of possible health problems they suspected. By all accounts, he should be a perfectly healthy individual. This baffled the scientists further, both annoyed and fascinated by such an unusual case. At last, it was decided that Chopin had to change his diet for the time being and see if that helped.

The young man was none too happy about this, seeing as they let him eat without restriction beforehand. To compensate, they gifted him a desktop computer for his struggles. Chopin grudgingly accepted his circumstances for the time being once he discovered he really, really liked computers. Before long, he was teaching Liszt all kinds of new things.

“I can talk with people online without ever having to look at them face to face.”

“What’s that little box in the corner?” Liszt pointed at the screen, causing Chopin to frown at the smudge mark left on his monitor.

“Oh, that’s just a message from my friend. We play games together, sometimes.” Liszt raised an eyebrow at the name ‘CryingDarkAngel’, but she wasn’t about to object to perhaps the first person he had ever called a friend other than her.

Two more Classicaloids woke up not long after Chopin’s medical incident, a pair of adorable young girls named Tchaikovsky and Badarzewska. They formed an idol group almost immediately, and they became smash hits in no time flat. Liszt was thankful to them, not only did they pick up the slack Chopin left behind, but took some of the pressure off when he was unable to perform.

Which wasn’t to say he never performed while at Arkhe, in fact, he managed several live performances in spite of his mysterious illness. He had yet to draw a huge crowd like Clasky;Klasky due to his late start, but he received a small crowd nonetheless.

Despite this, it was clear to Liszt a successful performance took a lot out of his already weakened body. He always returned utterly exhausted and fell asleep in his bed without even changing out of his dress clothes. Liszt changed him into his pajamas on more than one occasion. She noticed he had gotten thin. Those nights were hard. Quiet.

Things came to a head the day after Tchaiko informed Liszt and Chopin that Bach wanted them to track down the missing Classicaloids and convince them to come back. Liszt was a persuasive (and frightening) woman, after all, so if anyone could take them home, it would be her. Chopin stayed quieter than usual. 

“Aren’t you excited to meet more Classicaloids, Cho-chan?” She tried to encourage him.

“Mm.” He responded.

When Lizst awoke the next morning, Chopin and his desktop had vanished from his side of the room leaving a pile of mikans in his place. He must have dumped the contents of a mikan box out on his bed and packed his computer up in it, save for the one peeled mikan left as a ‘gift’ hidden in the seat of Bach’s chair. How brave of her Cho-chan, not only to run away without her, but to defy the orders of Bach himself! She worried about him out there all alone, but the whole ordeal was almost kind of funny.

“Bach-sama is very upset about this you know! There’s a juice stain all over his cape!” Tchaiko yelled and stomped her foot, trying to be intimidating but failing with her squeaky voice and short stature. “Now you have to bring all three of them back. The GPS on Chopin’s phone says he’s at the same place Mozart and Beethoven are, so it shouldn’t be difficult.”

Little did they know, this decision would cause Arkhe to lose yet another Classicaloid.

\---------------

“Cho-chan-san can be kind of a jerk, but it seems like he’s gone through a lot.” Kanae said, drinking the last of her juice. “I didn’t know he had any dietary restrictions, though. I can adjust his meals to-”

Liszt interrupted with a wave of her unoccupied hand, “That offer is kind of you, my little kitten, but there’s no need to fret. He’s all better now.”

“Eh? Just like that?” Sousuke asked, turning his head. “Did you ever find out what was wrong?”

“Cho-chan finally did. It was anxiety, plain and simple.” Liszt paused to pour herself more wine. “He really hated live performances that much. Cho-chan was used to feeling sick, and he didn’t tell me he was nervous because he didn’t want to worry me, he said, so neither of us could put two and two together.” 

“The human mind can cause anxiety to manifest physically in all kinds of ways.” Pad-kun chimed in.

“That’s right. No matter what Cho-chan says, this place was the best thing to ever happen to him. He’s gained weight, and he’s even started coming out of his shell.” Liszt sighed. “I just don’t want this to ruin all of his progress. He’s worked so, so hard just to get this far.”

Kanae patted her shoulder, “It’ll be okay, Liszt-san. He’s a very private person, he probably just needs some time to himself. Why don’t you try talking to him again in the morning? Maybe he’ll be calmed down by then.”

“You’re probably right, my little kitten. “ Liszt said halfheartedly, not entirely convinced as she put her dirty glass in the sink. “It’s been a long day. I think I’m going to go to bed early. Sweet dreams.” Liszt waved her hand as she left the kitchen.

“I hope those two work things out soon…” Kanae mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly long and exhausting, so I think I'm going to go on a week long hiatus now that it's finished. Stay tuned, though! There will be another chapter before February ends.


	6. Sousuke & Pad-kun

"Hey Kanae? Can I spend the night?" Sousuke asked. Liszt had left not too long ago, and now Kanae puttered around trying to get things done to keep her mind off of the problems at hand. Sousuke waited a good twenty minutes or so before asking in an attempt to hide his intentions.

"Wh-? Tonight? With things the way they are right now?" Kanae whipped her head around in shock, then narrowed her eyes. "What are you planning?"

"I'm not planning anything!" He waved Pad-kun and his free hand around defensively. "I just...want to make sure everything's gonna be okay. I'm just as worried as you are, y'know."

"Well...it's not a school night..." She tilted her head towards the floor before letting out a sigh, "Alright. Promise me you won't get in the way?"

"Promise."

\-------

Sousuke set up his usual makeshift bed on the couch in his room that night, humming a tune from Clasky:Klasky's recent album. He practically felt Pad-kun's eyes right on him while he worked, despite the fact the tablet was lying face up on the floor towards the ceiling.

"You're not going to be keeping that promise to Kanae, are you, Sousuke...?" He asked incredulously.

"Hey! I'm not going to make a mess of things. I just want to help." Sousuke grabbed his pillow and put it on the couch with more force than necessary before sighing, plopping down on the couch. "Liszt-san said Chopin's better off since he came to the mansion. And I'm the whole reason he's here...I just thought..." He trailed off. The two sat in silence for a few moments. 

"Call me crazy, but I think a talk from someone or something other than a Classicaloid might do him some good. If you don't screw it up, that is."

"You mean you aren't going to stop me?!" Sousuke exclaimed.

"Even if I wanted to, I cannot. I don't have any limbs."

An hour passed as Sousuke waited for everyone in the mansion to go to bed. Most of them were early risers, which luckily meant for him they went to bed early, too. He needed that if he wanted to prevent getting caught. Everyone went to bed early other than Chopin, a wild card who could be sleeping all hours of the day. He remembered Chopin telling him how often he slept at the agency due to sheer exhaustion, but now Sousuke wondered if he ever slept at all. He seemed to be always online whenever Sousuke pulled up the messenger; but, despite that, they didn't talk nearly as often about their problems or really much of anything anymore as of late. He missed it a little.

Sousuke only noticed him go offline when Chopin came down with his stomach flu a couple of days ago. Too sick to play, he logged in and out much more often to prevent notifications from disturbing desperately needed rest. Sousuke tapped the app on Pad-kun's interface to see if he was online; it would indicate whether he had fallen asleep or not. 

"Looks like he's still online," Pad-kun stated. "He probably won't answer if you send him a message, though."

"I should probably go see him directly. C'mon, let's go." Sousuke tucked Pad-kun under his arm and headed for the door. He peered out in the dark hallway, turning his head left and right, before tip-toeing down the hall. "Oh, wait." He said, voice hushed.

"What? What is it?" Pad-kun asked, lowering his volume.

"We have to go get something from downstairs first. It'll only take a sec."

\------

Chopin let out a noise between a sigh and a moan as his phone lit up in the darkness of his room, desperate to distract himself from the stress at hand as he curled up tighter in bed. After driving off the only person he still considered a friend, he was now forced to confront his problems all alone. Awful, terrible thoughts swirled through the edge of his mind: insults, the thought of Liszt hating him forever, the memory of that apartment in Paris where he- where he-

Chopin swallowed thickly, the pain just as bad as he remembered at the agency. While living at the mansion stressed him out from time to time, never before had it gotten this bad. Maybe a bit nauseous at times (though that was likely from the gyoza), but the atmosphere was...relaxed compared to before with the constant buzz of doing things he hated every week. He almost forgot this misery being a normal part of his routine once. Nonetheless, it was a blessing in disguise. As painful it might be, he welcomed any kind of distraction to get his mind off of things. Chopin blinked at his phone, eyes burning and throbbing from crying and threatening a headache to boot. He stared at the blurry screen with tired eyes, barely able to focus on some cute image set of dogs playing together.

 _Knock, knock._ The sound almost scared Chopin through the ceiling. Frantic, he put his phone face down on the floor and tried to feign sleep. With his back faced to the entrance he had no idea who it was, but all he knew is that he wanted them out so he could wallow in his own misery awhile longer.

"Chopin-san?" A voice asked in the darkness, revealing the intruder to be Sousuke. Why him? Chopin didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anybody. Though he shut his eyes tight and laid completely still, he heard the floorboards creak closer and closer towards him.

"Chopin-san. Oi." A socked foot touched his shoulder and shook it gently. "You forgot to hide your online status. I saw you logged in less than five minutes ago."

"Tch." How could he make such a basic mistake? "Go away."

"Aw, don't be like that. I brought you something that might make you feel better." Sousuke lowered his foot from his back. 

Moving his whole body proved to be too difficult. Instead, Chopin craned his neck around to the best of his ability, wary golden eye staring up at Sousuke in the darkness. Adjusting to the darkness of the room, he saw Sousuke standing there, one hand cupped around something and the other holding a glass of water. He also had Pad-kun nestled underneath the crook of his arm.

"You..."

"Uhm, Liszt-san said you get stomachaches when you were anxious...I'd be stressed out if I fought with my best friend, so I thought..."

"Give it here." Chopin demanded.

Chopin tried to prop himself up with one hand, legs still folded against his body. Knowing he was in pain, Sousuke put an arm around his shoulders to steady him and put the pills in Chopin's open hand. Once he put them in his mouth, Sousuke held the glass up to Chopin's lips until he took a couple of swallows. He winced as it went down, but hopefully the cramping from the stress would go away soon.

"There. That's better, isn't it?" Sousuke said with a gentle smile. _Stupid tool, don't look at me like that._ "Now, can we talk?"

"I don't need your help," Chopin muttered.

"Ehh? You can't just say that after I gave you medicine!" Sousuke exclaimed, pointing at him and almost dropping Pad-kun in the process.

"We talked to Liszt-san, you know. There's no use hiding," Pad-kun piped up.

"...how much did she tell you?"

"Everything.” Pad-kun answered.  
"That was pointless. As if a human could understand.”

"I mean...I can't relate to what you're going through exactly, but I still feel bad." Sousuke sat down with his legs crossed in front of Chopin's face with Pad-kun propped up in his lap. "Lots of people are made who weren't supposed to be. Like me!" 

"That figures." Chopin snorted. He might have laughed if he hurt less.

"Sousuke, I don't think that's something you should admit to..." Pad-kun said, digital display turning into three straight lines.

"Geeze, I'm just trying to help..." Sousuke scratched the back of his head. "I just think...what you're feeling isn't wrong, y'know? It's normal." 

_Normal? Remembering your own dying breath was normal?_ But it wasn’t even his own dying breath, was it? Regardless, he remembered what it felt like. The pain, the terror, the sorrow, the relief, everything. His breathing shuddered at the thought, running his hands through his hair as he tried not to lose his composure in front of the annoying tool boy. No, this whole situation was a far cry from _normal_. 

“You really are an idiot.” Chopin forced out, voice dripping with malice in an attempt to drive him off. “Having memories of a death that feels like your own? It’s the furthest thing from normal. Even if I’m built like a human, I’m not. I didn’t ask for this.” _I didn’t ask to live only to die again._

“Chopin-”

“Get out.” He cut Sousuke off with a stern glare. The boy jerked back onto his hands, when Pad-kun suddenly lit up. 

“Sousuke...if I may have a word with Chopin-san alone? Just give us 10 minutes. Please.”

“Even if I say no, you’re still going to do it, aren’t you.” Chopin stated. It wasn’t even a question.

“Just ten minutes is all I ask. Then we’ll leave you alone.”

“Fine. Whatever.” As long as it made them go away.

Sighing, Sousuke pulled out the stand on Pad-kun's back and propped him up near Chopin's head. Chopin winced at the sudden bright light, tempted to twist himself around to his other side until a twinge of pain reminded him that was a bad idea.

"Okay...I'm going..." Sousuke said hesitantly as he stood up, clearly not ready to leave. He obeyed, though, and Chopin heard the door give a soft click behind him. 

Chopin glared at the tablet, waiting for it to speak.

"Chopin-san...we're not so different, you and I." 

"Don't think you know me just because I prefer you over humans," Chopin snapped. He may have picked Pad-kun over the company of humans in certain situations, but only because he was more useful. In the end, Pad-kun was nothing more than a machine.

"You can't keep pushing people away like this, Chopin-san. Especially the ones that care about you, like Sousuke." Pad-kun reasoned, mechanical voice coming through the speakers in a calm tone.

"Why should I care about the feelings of a talentless tool?" Ever since he realized Sousuke was like every other asshole, he had given up on their friendship. He was an idiot, a moron. Spending any time with him grated on Chopin's every last nerve.

"Sousuke cares, you know. He cares quite a lot. As long as he's not thinking about himself, it's perhaps the one thing he's good at."

"Too bad he's an idiot."

"I agree wholeheartedly. Still, he is my dearest friend." Pad-kun replied.

"Only because you're stuck like that." Chopin quipped.

"Chopin...could it be your dislike for humans comes not from a lack of trust, but from jealousy?" Chopin felt like he had been splashed with cold water at the realization. Jealous? No. No no no, Chopin hated other people. He couldn’t be _jealous_ of them! He opened his mouth to object, but Pad-kun continued. "You have the memories of one, but you know you can never truly experience what it's like to be human. Is that it? Do you think I don't know what that feels like?" Pad-kun sounded both sympathetic and slightly offended.

Chopin scowled, anger and hurt in the pit of his stomach listening to Pad-kun’s words. "Sh-shut up! Shut up! You’re wrong!" His hands grabbed and pulled at his hair. "Chopin's memories are terrible. I don't want to live like that!"

"That may be true, but it only proves my point. These powers and memories have burdened you."

Chopin wanted desperately to fight him, but he realized he couldn’t. He loosened his grip on his head, defeated, his breath uneven as he spoke, “You know...I never asked for this. I never asked for any of this…”

“No one asks to be born, Chopin. Even Sousuke recognizes that. Neither humans, Classicaloids nor sentient AIs...your circumstances are yours to deal with, but you shouldn’t do it alone.” For a brief moment, Chopin wondered what kind of identity crisis one would endure as a sentient machine. Whatever that may have been, Pad-kun must have made his peace with it awhile ago. Trapped in a square body with no arms or legs, at the whim of other people around him at all times…

Perhaps Pad-kun knew more about this situation than he thought. The idea filled him with dread, honestly, but Chopin tried not to dwell on it. Pad-kun wasn’t here to talk about himself.

Lowering his arms, Chopin raised his head to stare at the tablet screen. The default smile on his face was gone, replaced with a sterner, more serious closed mouth. The blue eyes on the display blinked once, an unnecessary action for a computer, but one that showed he acknowledged Chopin’s gaze. A short silence passed between them as Pad-kun sat there, patiently waiting for him to speak.

“It’s just...hard, you know?” His eyes flickered from Pad-kun to his pillow. “Ever since I was born in the lab, I’ve had so much pressure to be the real Chopin. Making music, putting on live performances, getting screened for all his medical problems. No one ever asked what _I_ wanted...I thought Liszt understood who I really was, but she just sees me like everybody else does.” Chopin confessed with a lump in his throat recalling his days at the agency.

“I am sure it is quite the responsibility to uphold that kind of reputation. Did you tell her you’re not happy being compared to your namesake?”

“Well…” Chopin thought about it and flushed a little. The ordeal wound him up so much, he failed to realize in the moment how to communicate his confusing feelings. “I guess I…didn’t quite explain myself...”

“Talk to her about it. Even if she doesn’t understand, you know she only wants to help you.”

“Y-yeah...I-I know…” The thought of apologizing to her and making up in the morning both comforted and frightened him. No doubt she would forgive him, thankfully. Swallowing his pride would be the hardest part.

“Chopin,” Pad-kun started after a moment. “To you...who was the real Chopin?”

Chopin let out a little ‘hmmph’. If he was less emotionally drained the thought might have upset him, but the haze of exhaustion softened the otherwise existential question.

“I guess that depends...who am I?” Chopin questioned back, moreso to himself. He pulled his right hand out from underneath the covers and stared at his palm. His hands, hands he remembered creating and performing so much music with...but were those really his? Chopin, the real Chopin, felt like a stranger he knew intimately. Maybe even more than his own self, if they were indeed different.

“Unfortunately, that is a question only you can answer.” Pad-kun replied solemnly. Figures. “But it’s not one you have to answer today, or even tomorrow. And it’s not one you have to face by yourself. Even if they can be loud, unintelligent, rude...everyone in this mansion cares about you.”

“Yeah…” Cleaning up after him, singing to him, checking on him, feeding him soup, holding him when he cried… “Yeah, you’re right.” Chopin repeated with more conviction. 

The door creaked open suddenly, giving Chopin a little jump. Whether from the medication or the de-escalation of his anxiety, the pain in his abdomen lessened enough for him to sit up. Sousuke stood at the door, having returned after his 10 minute absence. More than a little impatient, he frowned as he looked over at the pair. 

“Are you guys d-...Chopin?”

“What?”

Sousuke approached him and carefully got down on his knees. “Are you crying…?”

“Am I?” Chopin rubbed his aching eyes with the heels of his hands and felt the wetness wipe off onto them. “I...I guess I am.” Again.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. Come here.”

Arms. Around him. Without any warning or permission, Sousuke pulled Chopin into a tight hug and squeezed. For a split second, Chopin’s normal reaction to any kind of unwarranted contact from anyone other than Liszt came to his mind; shove him off, berate him for touching him without asking, hide somewhere away from the contact and kick him out. Yet, Chopin realized he didn’t want that at all, did he? When was the last time he allowed anyone other than Liszt to touch him?

With a shaky breath, Chopin found himself returning the hug. He sobbed, just a bit, otherwise having cried too much earlier to produce many more tears lest he induce a migraine. Sousuke sat there in silence, patting him and waiting for his emotions to subside. Only a few minutes passed before he stopped, far too tired to cry any longer. Chopin broke from the hug first, and he could barely keep his eyes open as he looked to Sousuke. He must look like a mess, because the young man only responded with an affectionate smile.

“Feel better?” Sousuke asked after Chopin pulled away. They were right next to each other, yet he sounded so far off.

“Thanks…” Chopin slurred, flopping back onto the futon onto his pillow. He longed for sleep, anything to end the longest day of his short life. “Tired…”

“No problem. It’s super late, so you should sleep.”

The last thing he remembered before passing out was the comforter laying on top of his shoulders, sound asleep before he even heard his visitors wish him good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is Chopin's birthday. I wanted to have the fic done by today, but it looks like that won't happen. At least I got to update. Happy birthday, Frederic Chopin.


	7. Chopin

Chopin woke up the next morning in a groggy haze. He took his time stirring from a deep slumber, his mind floating in and out of consciousness. He dozed off three times, feeling too exhausted to move, as well as wanting to put off his responsibilities a little longer in favor for the comfort of his warm bed. Only around the fourth time waking up did his body refuse to fall back asleep, and Chopin figured it was about time to get up.

He made an involuntary grunt as he stretched his limbs out in front of them; a tight, stiff feeling ran through his muscles, momentarily protesting as Chopin tried to move. Fuzzy memories from last night came to him. Chopin had never felt so physically, mentally, emotionally drained; no doubt he slept hard, he must have barely moved. It took patience, but Chopin managed to sit up and stretch his arms above his head with a long, drawn out groan.

"Ah! Are you awake? Good afternoon, Chopin!"

He jumped at the unfamiliar voice - until he saw a glint in the dark room (it must be day, it wasn't quite as dark in the day) near the floor in the wall. _Through_ the wall, more accurately; an intense green eye peeking out from the hole next to the floor, staring back at him.

"B-Beethoven?"

"I didn't mean to frighten you. How do you feel?" Beethoven must be laying on the floor to get in such a position.

"Um...stiff...I slept pretty hard last night..." Chopin replied, rolling his shoulders. "But I don't really feel sick anymore." Perhaps his fever had broken during the night. 

"Excellent! Now you understand the power good food can possess!" Chopin could just imagine him making some mighty gesture on the other side of the wall while still laying on the floor.

"Yeah, yeah..." Chopin dismissed as he got to his feet. He needed to use the bathroom, and after that…

"Listen. Chopin." Beethoven's strong voice commanded. He perked up at the other’s more serious tone, walking over to his and Beethoven’s communication channel. "Today, if possible...I believe you should talk with Liszt. I don't know what happened, but...this is not the fate of your friendship. It is not too late to fix the unnatural tension between you two." 

Chopin let out a soft sigh. "I...I'm going to. Just let me wake up a minute." Beethoven cared, in his own strange way. 

Sighing, Chopin exited his room and dragged his feet towards the bathroom. While in there, he couldn't help but notice his rather pathetic appearance in the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands. The feverish blush in his cheeks had disappeared along with the worst of the bags under his eyes, however, his eyelids were swollen and puffy; colored a light pink from crying so much yesterday. Pathetic. He gave a few good shakes of his head until his bangs concealed the sorry state of his face. 

Just as Chopin left the bathroom, he ran into Schubert looking out the window in the hall. He kept his head down, desperate to avoid another encounter, but- 

"Ah, Chopin. May I have a moment?" Schubert asked, wringing his hands as he stepped in front of him.

"What?" It came out ruder than intended, but Schubert gave no response to it. Chopin looked in his direction, but struggled to make eye contact.

"You see...I don't wish to pry or anything, but about yesterday..." Chopin winced. Did the whole house know? He knew he had raised his voice, but he didn't think he had been that loud. Or, had Liszt told everyone? Not just Sousuke and Pad-kun? Rage flashed through his system at the thought of Liszt telling everyone about their fight like hot gossip. "You seemed awfully upset. I don't know what happened, but I could make a few guesses."

No, no. Of course she didn't tell the whole house. Beethoven had no clue either. The anger resided, but the continued obstacles between him and his goal left him feeling annoyed.

"If you want me to open up to you right now, I don't really feel like it." Chopin stated rather bluntly. He needed to stay focused if he wanted to talk to Liszt.

"That's perfectly alright. I know you have unfinished business to attend to. I just wanted to let you know..." Schubert leaned in and put a gloved hand on Chopin's shoulder. The other moved just slow enough towards him that Chopin managed not to flinch. "If it's ever about your memories, you can come to me about it. I'm not so certain of the others, but I know for a fact I can recall basically everything."

"Oh." Chopin blinked, surprised by Schubert’s confession. How long had he been keeping that baggage all to himself? Had he come to terms with who he was, or had he suffered in silence? Either way, he was comfortable admitting something so private. Chopin wished he had that kind of confidence. 

"O-of course, it could be something completely unrelated. I just had a hunch." He added quickly, misinterpreting Chopin's surprise.

"N-no, I...thanks, Schubert." Chopin nodded once, his eyes focused on Schubert for the first time since the start of their conversation. "We should talk sometime..." He agreed as he played with a button on the sleeve of his pajamas. If Schubert understood what he was going through...a talk would be kind of nice.

Schubert smiled brightly, "Ah! Good. That's all I wanted to tell you then." Schubert lowered his arm and side stepped out of Chopin’s path. "Liszt is downstairs, I believe."

Chopin waved his arm hand as a thank you and headed down the stairs to search for her. He saw three people in the living room - Kanae, Mozart, and Sousuke; all three sitting around in front of the television. He didn't want to draw attention to himself after last night's...episode with Sousuke and started to retreat back up stairs to search for his best friend. Liszt must be elsewhere in the mansion. But before he could sneak away, a cheery voice piped up from the living room.

"Hey! Look who's alive!” Mozart announced. “I was about to start spreading rumors you were dead." He laughed with a wave of his arm, but Chopin only grimaced at the thought of that. "Glad to see you're your usual grumpy self." Chopin had to force his expression to stay stern.

"Oh, Cho-chan-san! I have something for you." Kanae announced. 

"Something for me...?" He asked, pointing to himself.

Kanae nodded as she grabbed a bag off the table. "I went to the store this morning and bought these for you. Here." Kanae held out a plastic bag, and Chopin grabbed it from her hands and peered curiously inside. It contained six bottles of a pallid orange drink that Chopin did not recognize. "These'll replenish your electrolytes!"

Chopin's eyebrows shot up. "What-my...what?"

"You lose them when you're sick. Liszt-san said you were throwing up a lot before and even if it was a couple of days ago, your body is probably still out of whack from getting so dehydrated." Kanae explained.

"I-I see...." _Medicine has gotten so advanced_ , he thought as he turned a bottle over inquisitively, still unclear about these electrolytes.

"Do you mind if I feel your temperature?" Kanae asked, standing tall to reach his forehead with her hand. Chopin ducked back on instinct, unwilling to reveal his swollen eyes.

"Please don't touch my face..." He pleaded, and Kanae withdrew her hand, much to his relief.

"Can I touch your back then?" 

"Uhm, my back's okay," He settled with a weary tone.

Kanae nodded and stepped behind him to reach his back. What he failed to realize was that Kanae needed to go under his pajama top to feel for his temperature, and suddenly she was touching his bare skin with her hand. He let out a soft yip of surprise, muscles rigid under his skin until she withdrew. 

"Well, you don't feel feverish anymore." 

"Hey Kanae, will you feel me up like that next?" Mozart teased, turning his head upside down over the back of the chair to look at her without moving. Chopin blushed at Mozart’s suggestive attitude and took a skittish step backwards.

Kanae scowled, her brows knitted together as she glares over at the pink-haired man. "Why you-!"

"Chopin-san," Pad-kun interrupted, keen as always when it came to reading the situation. "Are you by any chance looking for Liszt?"

"U-uh-huh!" He answered a little too quickly, desperate to find her.

"I think she went out in the garden." Sousuke informed. 

"Ah, thank you...I'll b-be going now." The sooner he left, the better. He started making his way over to the exit when Pad-kun’s screen came to life. 

"Just remember what we talked about. Everything will be OK." Pad-kun reminded him. The conversation from last night helped Chopin to calm down and prepare himself to see Liszt, just a little bit.

"Wait. We?" Kanae’s attention switched from Mozart to Sousuke as she stood over him with her hands on her hips. "Did you go see him when I explicitly said not to?!"

"J-just for a minute! I gave him medicine for his stomach ache!" Kanae rolled up a magazine from off the table and waved it at him. "D-don't hit me!" Sousuke pleaded, holding his hands up for protection as Mozart laughed in the background.

Chopin took this opportunity to escape out to the garden through the back away from the commotion.

Looking out the back door, Chopin spotted Liszt sitting underneath the gazebo with wine in one hand and her phone in the other. _You can do this_ , he told himself with a deep inhale. He headed towards her but as soon as he set foot off the back porch and into the dry grass, he realized he had forgotten to wear any shoes. He looked back towards the door, contemplating his choices; if he went inside, he could get shoes...but he might lose his nerve and hide again.

With a sigh, Chopin trudged forward through the grass and tried to avoid stepping on anything sharp. He had to do this; he couldn’t hide from his problems in his room on his computer all alone for the rest of life (despite the small voice in the back of his head telling him otherwise). He reached the gazebo and took a seat across from her and set down his plastic bag. He wanted to sit next to her but felt he hadn't earned that privilege back yet. Unsure if she even noticed his presence, he opened his mouth to speak, when Liszt suddenly cut him off.

"You can't reach the wifi signal from out here, can you...?" She asked, lowering her smartphone and looking at him. He felt exposed, suddenly, with her eyes on him; though her expression lacked any anger or malice or really anything negative at all. A little tired, maybe. Guess who's fault that was.

"There's...a reason I don't leave the back porch." He felt it rude not to respond to the conversation, despite the fact that anxiety rapidly built in his chest the longer he put off his apology. A short silence stretched between them, before he tried again-

"Listen-" Liszt and Chopin said in unison. Chopin shut his mouth first, eyes fixed to a bug meandering across the wooden floor on tiny little legs.

"You...you go first." She said, placing her cup of wine on the table between them.

With his head still bowed, Chopin started, "Uhm...I just wanted...it's just that..." He heard the blood pound in his ears. Don't be silly, Chopin. She won't abandon you. Won't stop being your friend. Hate you and leave you in this strange world to figure out your identity all by yourself without even-

"Frederic. _Breathe_. I haven't even heard what you wanted to say. Stay calm, and tell me." She was right. Chopin nodded and swallowed thickly before he tried again.

"I'm...I'm sorry..." Chopin ran a hand through his hair but stayed careful not to displace his bangs. He could do better than that. "S-sorry that I hit you and yelled at you. I said something so hateful. I was just so scared that I- I-"

"Shh. It's okay. I forgive you." Part of him felt relieved, but a smaller voice in his head muttered that he was an idiot for ever thinking she hated him forever in the first place. "I'm sorry, too,” she confessed, moving over next to him on his side of the gazebo. 

"You're sorry? For what?" 

"I wasn't listening to you. You needed love and understanding in such a crucial moment, but I treated you like a child." Liszt placed her fingers on his chin and lifted his line of sight away from the interesting bug and onto her face. She wore a gentle, reassuring look, features soft with a slight smile as her other hand pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Don't feel too bad, alright, my dear? We both screwed up."

"I, uhm....I don't know if you really did anything wrong, but even if you didn’t, I forgive you too." Chopin backed out of her grasp, self-conscious of her gentle touch after their fight, and Liszt lowered her hand. "Heh, I must look like a mess."

"You're always a bit of a mess, but you're our mess," Liszt giggled. Chopin tried to laugh with her, but her expression suddenly sobered. "But, you...are you okay after yesterday? I know you're much stronger than anybody has ever given you credit for, but I'm here for you. Even if I can't always understand or relate, I want to help, you know?"

Ah, there it was. Not the admission of Liszt's support, Chopin figured he would always have that as long as he kept himself from screwing up again, but it was the emotions from yesterday, dark thoughts and feelings threatening to bubble to the surface yet again. No, no, he could talk about this without falling apart. 

"I wouldn't say I'm...well, not ok...but I wouldn't call myself ok either." Liszt tilted her head. Chopin sighed and gathered his thoughts. "I don't know who I am or what I am anymore, a genuine reincarnation, or a knock off...but I think I want to try...being my own person. And I want to get better at being a person in general. I can't keep living in fear the way I am now, gluing myself to the computer, avoiding people, staying in my room all the time. It'll be hard...and it's going to take a long time...but I want to try."

"That's a wonderful goal, Cho-chan!" Liszt opened her arms up, and Chopin gladly took the invitation for a hug, missing her warmth. "Whoever you are, I'll be here for you. With or without our historical ties...you know I love you no matter what, right, Frederic? You are my closest friend."

“Yeah, yeah…” Chopin was used to pressing against her chest, but her words flustered him. He thought over the past few days, and how much he took Liszt’s love and care for granted...Their friendship meant the world to him, and sometimes he wondered if he ever expressed that enough. “I...y’know...do too. Love you. And stuff.” 

“Oh! My little Cho-chan! How sweet!” Her loving hold tightened into a strong squeeze, a little too strong for Chopin to handle. 

“O-ok, too much love. Can’t breathe.” He wheezed against her breasts, and she thankfully released him a moment later. 

"You're being so affectionate,” Liszt stated, grinning from ear to ear as she kissed him on the nose. “Are you sure you still don't have a fever?"

"Ugh, you're getting lipstick on my face..." Chopin blushed and furiously scrubbed at his skin. "I think it broke, thank God." The talk of sickness reminded him of the bag of drinks Kanae gave him. They were supposed to make him recover faster, right? Chopin idly reached into it to pull one out. “I’m glad...I’m not sick like that all the time, like in my memories...not physically, anyways.”

“Mhmm…” Liszt agreed, still grinning as she stared out into the garden. “You know...I had been thinking about this for awhile, so I guess now is as good as any time to bring it up.”

“Oh?” He asked before he unscrewed the lid off of one of the drinks and took a swig. It tasted a bland orange and slightly sweet flavor, though something about it was distinctly medicinal. But if it meant gaining those important electrodes or whatever, he had taken worse than this.

“Would it help with your identity if we took a trip to Poland?” She glanced over at him to gauge his reaction, which was to immediately choke on his drink. Eyebrows raised in shock, Liszt moved over to pat his back while he coughed. “Of course, if you want to separate yourself from the previous Chopin, I could see how it might be a bad idea-”

“N-No! That’s not it.” He spoke between coughs. “Even if I’m...someone else, I’m still Polish. All the memories I’ve inherited…” It was strange to have such fondness and longing for a place he had never even visited.

“Will it help you come to terms with them?”

“It...it won’t magically solve my problems. But it’ll be...a start.”

“Then we should go. Oh, it’ll be so much fun, Cho-chan!” Liszt exclaimed, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

Chopin allowed himself to lean into her hold with a warm smile. Liszt’s excitement was contagious, it always had been. The idea of connecting to his namesake and forging his own identity made him feel more like a person, a human being with thoughts and feelings. Not just an experiment created in a lab. He had a long road ahead, of course, and struggling with his crippling anxiety on top of it all would be no small task. But with Liszt’s support-

...No, with _everyone’s_ support, he felt hopeful about his life and his future here. His future in this strange little mansion he called _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed the longest fic I've ever written. I'm dealing with some issues right now, and this fic is kind of a reflection of that. I hope someday I can look back on it and say 'Wow, I'm glad I'm not in that place anymore'.


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